Perception
by MissCrookedSmile
Summary: Gotham's favorite son is turning 35, which has gotten a lot of media coverage. Even two reporters from Metropolis are attending one of the many celebrations of the man...


"What can you tell me about Bruce Wayne?" the reporter asked the group while clicking his pen, ready to write down any keywords, quotes and names that could be of interest.

Bruce Wayne, one of the country's richest men and definitely the most eligible bachelor on the East Coast, was turning 35. Many newspapers were using the occasion to make full biographies of the man: NOW! Did a very flattering piece about "Bruce Wayne – the Hope of America?". They described every side of his philanthropy, from how he was able to give away a larger amount to charity than Bill Gates, despite his lower income, to how he alone had sponsored shelters to 25,000 homeless Gothamites and took in three boys with no place else to go. Business Today did three pages on how Wayne managed to quadruple Wayne Enterprises' revenue in the first four years of his return to Gotham, while Women's Kosmo had made a whole special under the title "The Man that Got Away" by interviewing his former girlfriends, focusing on the celebrities and the models, of course. The Gotham Gazette had even managed to triple their sales when they last week used the headline: "Three Generations of Waynes – One in the Gutter, One in the Ground and One in the Shadows "; having celebrity psychologists analyze the relationship between Bruce Wayne and his three wards: Richard Grayson, Jason Todd and Timothy Drake. Dick moving to Blüdhaven to become a cop apparently meant he wanted nothing to do with his adoptive father and his playboy lifestyle, Jason's dead was denounced to be Bruce's fault, since he took the boy with him to a war zone, and Tim's sudden adoption plus his lack of public appearances was seemingly a sign that his and Bruce's relationship was nothing like that between a father and son. The underground Queers and Queens of course picked up on that last one and wrote a horrible piece called "The Love between Man and Boy".

Perry wanted something different: "I want under that all too shiny exterior of his. But no tabloid dirt, like the Gazette! We're a newspaper for God's sake, not a shiny pulp."

Clark and Lois had immediately volunteered to do the piece. They knew Bruce was used to hiding his secrets from the press, but they also knew their fellow reporters, and they definitely knew Perry – if he wanted digging, they would keep digging till they struck gold!

It wasn't their usual MO to do these sorts of cover stories, but Lois had managed to present the idea on the press meeting without sounding too suspicious. She really was brilliant.

They had both gone to the celebration, apparently the fourth birthday party others had hosted for Wayne. Lois was trying to get a couple of quotable statements from the man of the hour, while Clark was trying to grind up some details from the guests.

"What can we tell you about Bruce?" Gavin Deport repeated. He shared a knowing look with the three ladies around him. "Oh honey, did you join the right crowd!" he flamboyantly hollered to the delight of the girls. They all laughed ecstatic.

Deport was known to be Gotham's biggest gossip. He was always trying to get in the media somehow and even had his own reality TV-show at one point. Officially he had settled down with a famous musical actor from Broadway, but they lived in separate houses, Deport stating that he could never leave Gotham for good. This was after all the only place in the world where he was seen as a semi-celebrity, Clark thought to himself.

"You all know him?" Clark asked naïvely while pushing his glasses back up his nose with his index finger.

"Know him?" the redhead asked surprised. "Yeah. You could say that. We all know Brucie quite _intimately_" she whispered in what she thought was a seductive voice. The slur in her tone caused by two champagne cocktails made it less so.

"Could you tell me about him. In your own words?" Clark tried again, afraid where this was going.

"He is a grand man" the shorthaired blond said, her eyes dreaming away. "Maybe the biggest I have ever met."

"And so persistent", the redhead jumped in. "Once Bruce starts going it seems impossible to tire him."

"Don't forget generous" the blond with the high hairdo added. "He always takes good care of others before daring to focus on his own needs."

Deport was doing a terrible job of hiding a giggle while they all shared looks.

Clark pretended to be gullible enough to not know what they were doing and wrote it all down on his little notepad.

"But perhaps most important of all: Everybody knows Bruce in Gotham. Everybody young and gorgeous that is!" Deport took another huge sip of his cocktail. "It's almost like an initiation ritual here. You're not a real Gothamite before you get to 'shake hands' with Brucie himself."

"Brucie… him… self…" Clark muttered to seem realistic as he wrote away. He looked up again. "So you have only good to say. That's nice!"

"Well," the shorthaired began, "he really is king of elusive. You get to know the guy for one night and you might never get to 'shake hands' with him ever again."

"You got a whole night?" The high hairdo added irritated. "Call yourself lucky. Most of us just get a small taste of his charm before he disappears as quickly as he entered."

"Girls, now, now!" Deport interrupted. "Don't be such sourpusses. Bruce is a fine man and he only tries to share the wealth with as many of us as he can."

"Easy for you to say" the redhead sneered.

Deport didn't even try to hide this smile: Arrogant and extravagant as it was.

"Minnie, don't tell the paparazzi that!"

Clark thought about correcting him, but swallowed his need to be referred to as a reporter.

"Minnie, Sissy and Lizzy- good does come in threes after all!" a man yelled while rapidly approaching. His tone indicated he had had more than just two champagne cocktails. His foolish smile seconded the notion.

"How wonderful that you could make it!" Bruce Wayne almost yelled to the crowd. He practically barged in to the middle of the little gathering and started handing out kisses to the girls – not settling for the cheek. They all laughed and eagerly awaited their turn. The last one in line, the redhead, even laughed as Bruce copped a feel.

When the popular billionaire turned around, he seemed to only now notice Deport, completely ignoring Clark. He straightened his back and cleared his throat in order to land his voice in a lower register.

"Gavin" he said with an intense look and a crooked smile.

"Bruce" Deport greeted back with a raised eyebrow and puckered lips. "No kiss for me?"

Bruce's went beyond sleazy and straight to horny as he countered with: "You settle for a kiss these days? How disappointing…"

Clark cleared his throat. This charade was becoming a little to awkward with him standing there, even if Gotham was known as the city that could make even San Francisco blush.

"Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me" Wayne said as he snapped back to his fake reality. "Bruce Wayne, man of the hour. Nice to meet you, mr…?"

"Kent, sir, Clark Kent. We've met. Several times", he explained as he accepted the firm handshake.

"Oh yeah, yeah, you are the one who married Lois, right?" Bruce continued, still looking a little too drunk to remember details. He was quite convincing.

"Yes, sir. I'm that lucky guy" Clark continued optimistically, clinging to his gullible façade.

"He's a journalist, Bruce" the redhead whispered loudly above her drink. In Gotham, all the socialites seemed to have the same three habits: They kiss when they meet, gossip when they turn their backs and always let each other know who was who at any given party. You couldn't enter one of these things without immediately having every simple reporter and photographer in the room pointed out to you, as well as getting a list of names of the most influential and the evening's most attractive men and woman.

"I know!" Bruce whispered back in the same loud manner over what seemed to be a whiskey on the rocks. They shared a giggle and a long stare that got a little too intense for Gavin Deport. He of course let his jealousy win and interrupted the moment:

"So, Bruce… When will we see you again?"

"I presume you used the royal plural about yourself, yet again Gavin" Bruce poked back. "You being the queen of the party."

The three women giggled with delight.

"You are always so funny, Brucie" the shorthaired blond stated as she reached out to touch his arm. He pretended to flex for her amusement, but Clark could easily see how his friend tried to conceal just how well trained that bicep actually was. And that was when Clark heard an almost inaudible whisper, performed by a mouth trained in the art of ventriloquism:

"Get me out of here!"

Despite the sound level only being detectable for Kryptonian ears, Clark could easily hear the desperation dripping from each and every word. He decided to help his old friend.

"Mr. Wayne, I was wondering whether I could get a sound bite with a statement from you for the Daily Planets' podcast". He found his smartphone in his pocket and showed it to the group. "It will only take a second."

"No" the four socialites moaned while shaking their heads and desperation shining out of their botoxed faces. "But he just got here" the high haired blond said with a pout.

"Don't panic, ladies, I'll be back shortly. There's plenty of me to go around" Bruce stated with a grin. As he turned around to leave with Clark, he bend in close to Deport's ear, whispering something only Deport and the man with superhearing could understand:

"Unless you're free later…"

He then took long, confident strides towards one of the empty balconies on the floor, Clark almost having to run behind him to catch up. Somehow Bruce managed to set the high pace and look drunk beyond his wits at the same time.

As soon as Clark closed the doors behind them and Bruce had discretely checked for people and hidden cameras, he ditched his drink in a large fern planted in an antique pot and leaned on the barrier.

"Quite a show you put on there" Clark commented with raised brows to break the ice.

"I have been to four of these things this past week… Four, Clark! And it isn't even my birthday until Tuesday. I swear to God, I almost prayed for an outbreak at Arkham last night."

He let a tired hand run through his hair and down his face, the palm resting in a spot that covered his features.

"I didn't think you believed in God. Or prayers, for that matter." Clark added, taking a place on the rail next to Bruce.

"Desperate times…" Bruce explained as he let his hand drop down his side to expose an exhausted look. It quickly found its way inside his jacket and retrieved a lighter and a packet of imported cigarettes.

"Now what is that?"

"A reason to stay out here in secrecy" the tired playboy explained as he lit one without ever letting the filter touch his lips. He was still a teetotaler through and through.

"The smokes, the gay persona… It really has been too long since Clark Kent hang out with the guy."

Bruce smirked: "I knew the homosexuality would get to you. Still a Kansas-boy despite everything you've seen?"

"Always" the reporter admitted proudly. "But you did smear it on pretty thick in there. I mean, who buys that act?"

"More than you would think" the billionaire added as he stepped on a bud and lit another Goldflake – the favorite brand of Gotham's most wealthy lung cancer patients. "Especially after I slept with Gavin those two times…"

Before Clark could swallow his surprise and judge whether his friend was just kidding in his significantly monotonous tone, Bruce caught him off-guard again.

"Company" he whispered, quickly throwing the half cigarette on the ground and stepping on it with his wing tipped shoes. They probably cost more than a reporter made in a month, Clark thought to himself before he was interrupted by his own wife and a corps of journalists.

"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Wayne!" The crowd yelled with one voice. Before they could surround him, the pale man's expression had gone from sharp and mildly annoyed to witless and unfocused. And they wondered how Clark Kent was able to divert himself from Superman with just a pair of glasses!

"Jeez, I see you called the rest of the hive, Kent!" he laughed as he packed away the costly smokes. Others might not have noticed, but both Clark and Lois saw the strain in his face. He desperately wanted out. And as Clark knew from personal experience, he would find a way! One that would keep his cover intact but lead him to another hiding place fast – no matter the means.

"Isn't this your gorgeous wife?" Bruce said slurred while a paparazzi desperately tried to catch a glimpse of the smokes in his jacket and a reporter from Keystone City asked him where his date, some famous actor, had gone off to. He of course ignored both as he took a firm grasp around Lois' waist and drew her in close. She looked chocked at first, but that quickly turned to disgust once he leaned in and whispered something in her ear with a grin smeared over his face. Only Lois and the Kryptonian could hear he didn't give her an offer to spend the night or worse, as his smirk would suggest. Instead he voiced: "I am so sorry, Lois, please forgive me" – and then slapped her ass hard enough to make her jump and for the smack to echo in the old building.

Her eyes widened and threw him a look that would – and could! – kill. She took in a deep breathe via her nostrils, a move Clark had come to link with hours of misery, before she slapped the playboy's chin hard enough to make the same echo as he had just provoked. Bruce pretended to fall with the hit, having to keep his balance by grapping the banister with both his hands. All cameras where blitzing away.

"Do not mistake me for one of your usual floozies, Mr. Wayne, and do NOT treat me like one of them ever again!"

Clark knew she was talking to both the alias and the man. Bruce knew too. He would definitely have to send her flowers and apologies for the rest of the week.

A British voice deafened the rest of the comments with his astonishment: "Master Bruce!"

The butler quickly and elegantly tore away the reporters, rapidly adding a shoulder for his employer to rest on. Bruce pretended to be hurt and dumfounded in order for Alfred to carry him away. He couldn't take one more second of this.

"I am truly sorry, Mrs. Lane. I have no idea what have gotten into him" he explained as he hurled Wayne's arm more over his shoulder.

"Maybe a couple of bottles of champagne?" a Coast City journalist guessed to the amusement of the rest of the group. Clark found his place by Lois' side, ready to hold her back when Bruce Wayne's dismissive comment would no doubt enrage her. He didn't disappoint:

"Frigid bitch…"

She almost jumped him right then and there, but the apologetic Clark Kent held her back, explaining to her that he was technically their employer, that he didn't knew what he was saying and so on.

Bruce managed to escape the crowd, Clark thought to himself, which wasn't unimpressive. But he sure would like to see how he would manage to escape the furious Lois Lane!


End file.
